


Bucking Tradition

by magnetgirl



Category: Bend It Like Beckham (2002)
Genre: College, F/F, Fluff, Leaving Home, Lesbian Character of Color, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/magnetgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Biracial Bisexual British Broncos invade California</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucking Tradition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeaperSonata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaperSonata/gifts).



Jess stuck a hand halfway round the corral and pushed the hangers back to get a better look at one that caught her eye. “Jules…”

“Yeah?” her friend called from the other side of the structure. She was trying out hats, making faces in a mirror.

“What is a ‘bronco’?”

They’d arrived six days ago. Two were spent moving in, three in Orientation, and one in recovery. Today was day seven. They’d been here a week. It was morning and it mostly felt like morning as their bodies were settled into the new time zone finally. Jules woke up wanting to go shopping. Jess woke up wanting to go home, but she kept it to herself.

They started at the school store where everything from coffee mugs to underwear to the hat on Jules’ head was red and gold and sported a Santa Clara Bronco.

“I dunno, some kind of horse.”

“Yeah…” Jess fingered the shirt, the snarling horse figure daring her to be as proud and powerful. “’Sweird isn’t it?” Not that she had much -- any -- experience with horses but she’d imagined them more delicate and docile. Strong, sure, but these broncos were wild and… mean.

Jules shrugged. “I guess?” She placed the hats back on the table and joined Jess at the t-shirts.

“Like…” Jess cocked her head, looking for the words. She picked a hairbrush -- red, with gold lettering -- up off a nearby table and pantomimed a news interview. “How would you explain your life in one sentence, Juliet Paxton?” She spoke into the hairbrush, using a deep voice. Jules giggled. Jess straightened her shoulder, standing as tall as she could, which was still a head shorter than her teammate, and adopted an American inflection to answer into the brush, “I’m a Santa Clara Bronco playing soccer.” She elongated each vowel and dropped the 'r' so it sounded closer sock-ah.

“Good accent,” Jules quipped.

“Shut up.” Jess swatted Juliette’s hand, but her friend grabbed her arm in retaliation and the hairbrush went flying. The girls watched it skid across the floor in silence before bursting into laughter. A student worker walked over to pick up the brush -- and raise two eyebrows at the London transplants clutching each other and laughing. The short one at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Sorry,” Jess muttered.

“Be careful, please,” the worker answered, then, under her breath, “get a room.”

Jules rolled her eyes and started for the door. She still wanted to shop and this place was as overpriced as it was tacky. Also rude. Jess followed, slower, distracted.

“Hang on.” Juliette stopped at the door, Jess had to scramble not to run into her. “You think the Yanks know?” Jules asked. “What a bronco is.”

Jess frowned. “Why wouldn’t they?”

Mischief spread across her friend’s face. “Let’s ask.”

“What?” Jules spun in place and walked back the way she’d come. “What?” Jess said again, her stomach twisting. “Jules… What are you…” She sighed and waited as Juliette asked the already irritated shopkeep what a bronco is.

“The university’s mascot.”

Jules thanked her with a smile and returned to Jess and the door. She ushered Jess outside under her arm before following with a final wave to the now thoroughly confused student worker.

The next answer they got, from the next person they saw, was the most persistent answer by far: “Uh. A horse?” replied their fellow student, and fellow athlete by the looks of her jogging routine.

Jules nodded, “Okay.” and ran off to bother someone else.

Jess sighed, “Thank you.” and ran after.

Jogger stared, glanced around for hidden cameras, tweeted _“when biracial british lesbians ask you about ponies while you're jogging #ThatAwkwardMoment #welcometocalifornia”_ and returned to her run.

After “a horse” and related variations such as --

“An angry horse,” answered the kid outside the library.

“A wild horse,” said the woman setting up to sell posters in the square. Her cowgirl hat and boots gave her an air of credibility.

“A horse that can’t be tamed,” claimed the skater/poet practicing by the steps.

\--the second most popular answer was “What?” followed by “Why?” and “Who cares?” or “Who _even_ cares?” which Jess honestly found to be more emphasis than the question warranted but sometimes people are passionate about really odd things.

The singular answers were more interesting, or at least, more entertaining.

“It’s like that thing you ride in a bar. Right?”

Jules nodded agreement and made a mental note to look into that bronco thing you ride in a bar. It sounded awesome.

“They play for Denver.”

Jess looked it up. American football.  

“I don’t know, check wikipedia.”

Jess thanked him for the suggestion but they only barely held in their laughter before he’d walked off. They’d stopped caring about the actual answer hours ago.

"The truck? Ford makes it."

Accurate and also irrelevant.

“Is this a trick question?” The girl was so nervous Jess felt badly for her.

“No,” she assured her. “We’re just asking around.”

“A poll,” added Jules.

“Poll?” she squeaked.

“More like a game,” countered Jess, though how she thought it could come back on her Jess had no idea.

“Oh.” The girl glanced from one to the other, assessing if they were telling the truth, that this wasn’t some elaborate way to humiliate her, or even get her kicked back to Kansas. “It’s a horse.”

Jess thanked her and they walked off to the bar.

“Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you.” The frat boy swagger was obvious and obnoxious. Jules just laughed. He smirked. “Okay, share a drink and I’ll tell you.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Jules started to leave, Jess fell in step.

The guy called after, “I’ll buy you a drink. I’ll buy you _both_ a drink.”

Jules kept walking but something about it really annoyed Jess. She was tired, they’d been at this for hours. Frankly she’d love a drink -- but not like this. Not from the kind of guy who thought they owed him something. Jules kept walking but Jess turned. “We’re not interested.”

“Yeah, well, neither am I,” the guy harrumphed, contradicting actions. Jess didn’t much care, his answer barely registered. She felt good for saying something, and Jules had taken her hand.

 

“I don’t know, I found that enlightening.”

They’d ended up in St. Clare’s garden on campus which was apropos for the day’s events. Jess didn’t answer right away so Jules knocked her shoulder to shoulder. “Jesminder,” she said in that way she had, too loud but somehow musical.

“Sorry.”

Jules knocked shoulders again. “ _I’m_ sorry I dragged you all over today.” Jess just shook her head. Juliette followed her gaze to the rose covered trellis at the entrance to the park. “So. Who’s St. Clare?”

Jess groaned, laughing. “Please don’t say we’re going to ask around.”

A wicked grin spread across her friend’s face, but she shook her head as she stood. “There’s a plaque over there.” Jess smiled as she walked over to it and tucked her hair back behind an ear to read. “Saint Clare of Assisi....”

Jess walked slowly to join her, half-listening, but she didn’t want to know about Saint Clare of Assisi so much as she wanted to watch Juliette’s lips as she said it. “Why’s everyone always think we’re a couple?”

Jules looked up from her reading. “Hm?” Her eyes were big and bright in the low light.

Jess crossed her arms over her chest. California was too warm. “Nothing.”

Jules turned back to the plaque.  

 

They’d arrived ten days ago. Classes had started, and more importantly, training. No more hours free to wander around asking about horses. No more hours free at all. Jules loved every minute. Jess missed home.

“Jess? Is that you? Don’t come in! Just wait. Okay?”

Jess frowned. The alcove was tiny, and she was tired. She’d gone directly to the library after practice. She had a bag full of books and an empty stomach and she wanted to just sit down, not just wait. “What’s going on?”

“Just wait,” Jules said again. Jess sighed. “Close your eyes.”

“What--”

“Close your eyes!” Jules shushed. Jess closed her eyes. She felt Jules hands, taking her backpack, then her hands. She was lead into their room. “Okay,” Jules said when she’d placed Jess in the middle of the room. “Open!”

Jessminder’s eyes blinked open. She was surrounded by candlelight, and the smells of home. Juliette had moved their small card table to the center and it was set with wine, flowers, and all her favorite foods.

“What’s going on?” she said again, though the annoyance had dissipated into wonder.

Jules took a breath. “I heard you.”

“Heard…. what?”

Jules looked away, took another breath, and looked back. She stepped closer to Jess and took her hand. “Everyone thinks we’re a couple because…. we are.” Jess started. “Or at least we should be. I didn’t answer because...I was scared, and I wanted to do it right, and I know that you were scared, too and…” She looked down at the table. “I called your sister and asked what your favorite foods are.” The candles flickered in her eyes as she glanced up to meet Jessminder’s. “I know it’s not home cooking … or home…”

Jess grabbed her hand and squeezed. Jules held her breath. “It’s perfect. It couldn’t be more perfect.”

“It is?”

Jess nodded and pulled Jules into her embrace. “Home is wherever I’m with you.”


End file.
